


Midnight and high noon

by GwenChan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Intersex, Original Mythology, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Starcrossed Lovers, solar eclipse, sun and moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenChan/pseuds/GwenChan
Summary: The Solar Eclipse is the perfect occasion for Prince of the Moon Arthur to enjoy some time with his husband, the King of Sun.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Midnight and high noon

It is dawning when the Solar delegation arrives, as is their custom, just in time to see their hosts retire each to their chambers after a night of intense activity and preparations for the festivities. As the last stars shine above their heads and a glimpse of Earth can be seen on the horizon, they walk the side of the moon lit by their sun. The two peoples will cross paths again during the eclipse and at dusk, as it has always been. 

Only a small, select group of high ranking nobles is still awake to greet their neighbors upon their arrival, where high in the sky the lands of Day mingle with those of Night.

Six in number, the Solars never fail to show off, and not only in the way that they literally glow with a golden halo. Even without that peculiarity, their clothes, hair and manner would suffice to mark them as foreigners, standing far apart from the locals. Whereas Lunars prefer silver, blue and purple, Solars are spots in red, orange and yellow. At least, their visit will last no more than a day, as determined by the eclipse.

Though a spell has been cast upon them to permit them to stay beyond the sun’s reach, lightly dressed as they are, they shiver in the cold climate typical of the moon kingdom, far from their main source of power and light. On the Moon surface, dust lifts in small puffs around their feet, their steps easy in the lightness of the moon. They breathe slowly into the void where only their kind can survive.

Their king is the most resplendent of them all, clad in a billowy pale yellow tunic with the shining sun embroidered both on the front and back, golden cuffs around his wrists and the rays of his crown sparkling with rubies and topazes.

Standing on the edge of his lands, Arthur wonders if his Lord Husband - since the beginning of time - has explicitly chosen his flashiest outfit for the occasion. He frowns a little as his regal counterpart approaches.

"Your Grace," he greets, bowing his head only a little as is custom between equals.

"Your Highness," the other replies, with a flowery bow, and takes Arthur's hand to press a quick kiss on the knuckles.

"I see you have not learnt yet. When will you memorize how to address me properly, Lord Francis?" Arthur chastises, but his voice lacks the habitual sharpness, and underneath, the trained ear can catch a grain of fondness.

Francis chuckles. "I thought it was the custom, for a prince such as yourself.”

"Semantics, my lord, semantics. I am as much as king as you are."

"In any case, shall we discuss kings' matters? In the time we still have?"

Francis offers his arm, and his eyes, the colour of the sky at day, glint with unspoken words. Arthur rolls his own, sighs, but eventually accepts the arm of his consort

When the eclipse occurs, they all re-unite in the Moon temple, in the hall just before the sancta sanctorum where no Solar will ever be allowed to set foot, and where only High Priest Lukas and the prince can enter.

Eclipses are a chance to renew the ancient promises between the kingdoms. First it is up to the Lunars to once again swear fidelity to the Solars, from whence their magic and essence come. The ceremony is ancient and long, a series of intricate rituals the priests conduct to perfection.

When the Moon half-covers the Sun, the moment when the power of Lunars matches those of Solars, the few minutes when they are equal, new nuptials between the sovereigns are held. Tradition demands it. With an eclipse a year bringing their people together, it is overall useless; but it is a frail equilibrium in the lands of Sky, between Solars and Lunars, and good relationships have always passed through King of Sun Francis and Prince of Moon Arthur reiterating their union before Lunar High Priest Lukas and Solar Cleric Antonio. 

A quick brush of the finger is a promise of the sweeter union awaiting them.

Finally, when the moon obscures the sun, it is time for the Solars to be reminded to bow before the Lunars, glowing with power, because this can, and will, happen again.

***

They hold a Grand Ball at sunset, another tradition of these encounters. The ballroom stretches across the line between the dark side of the moon and the side facing the light. Its interior glints with silver and stars are imprinted onto the ceiling, Lunar magic making everything glow brighter.

A spell allows Solars to not faint by lack of direct sunlight. They never thrive far from home. Still, now that the moon isn’t obscuring their Sun anymore, they look less pale, though their complexion could never match the white pallor of the Lunars.

Their dark robes only enhance the fact, just as Solars prefer light colors to underline their tanned skin.

At ease on his throne, Arthur can’t help but direct little glimpses at his consort, instead of surveying their mingling courts. He has shed his traveling robes for something that is, if even possible, even more radiant , every centimeter of fabric glittering. A belt of rubies girds his hips and another secures the coat flowing down his shoulders. He dominates the ambience as if he was in his own palace.

"Shall we open the dances, Your Grace?" He stands and lifts his palm up.

Arthur concedes himself the luxury of hesitating for a moment, before, eventually, accepting the hand. It’s ivory against amber.

"If we must."

Courtiers retreat to the ballroom edges as they walk to the centre, with the musicians playing the first notes of a waltz.

As protocol demands, the lead is left to the sovereign guest, another sign of good manners between neighbours.

In fixing one hand onto his husband's shoulder and interlacing their fingers together, Arthur conceals his disapproval in a low scoff. Still he is given little time to grumble when Francis drags him into the first steps. As the moon does with the sun, Arthur can only follow. Francis is a fine dancer, his lead sure without being demanding. Soon the ballroom turns into a farandole of colours as they twirl under the starred ceiling.

"You are paler than ever," Francis says, spinning Arthur into a reverse turn, his voice such that it’s difficult to say whether he’s joking, or genuinely complimenting him. Arthur, still, decides to take it the best way.

"Thank you, my lord,” he accepts gracefully, slowing his pace into a promenade before Francis whisks him once more into a right turn, and finally into a backward lock as the music comes to an end.

They dance another waltz then, livelier, Francis demanding it and Arthur indulging his request once more out of generosity. They mingle with the court afterward and Francis doesn’t lose any time in asking another Lunar for a waltz, while Arthur speaks with Duke of Sunset Alfonso.

It is a small distraction, but helps a little in keeping his jealousy in check as Francis dances with Lady Irina, the evening star and the oldest of the Zoryas.

He still takes pleasure in openly accepting Lord Alfonso’s invitation for a dance, even pressing into his space more than etiquette would allow. He laughs at one of the duke’s jokes and makes sure Francis is watching them as he tilts his head back with free hilarity.

Seeing, in the corner of his eye, his husband approaching to demand his attention back has the taste of victory. For once, it is the Sun’s time to turn around the Moon.

Nonetheless Francis has the decency and patience to wait at least until the party is raucous enough that nobody would notice their absence or complain, and they slip away to retire to their matrimonial room.

Despite the room not having been opened in a year, the maids have done an impeccable job in hiding the fact.

Moonlight pours from one window, and from the other, sun-rays shower in.

“It’s cold,” Francis complains, wrapping his arms around himself.

“It is the Moon,” Arthur scoffs, stating the obvious. “And you always dress too lightly.”

He should’ve learnt by now. Francis, however, seems more interested in their room, although nothing has changed since the last time they used it.

"You don't sleep here," he states, almost as if the fact was a personal offense.

"Of course not," Arthur says. "Why would I?"

He has his own room. He doesn't need to sleep in a bed too big for him, just to be reminded of how rarely he and his husband can meet,and of the absurdity of their union.

"Besides, I do not like to have the sun in my sleeping quarters, thank you very much."

"Should I worry?"

This time, Arthur decides it's not worth answering, as he takes off the platinum circlet denoting his status. It glimmers with diamonds and pearls, the biggest one encrusted into the crescent moon at the centre of the crown.

On his side of the room, Francis does the same. He opens the brooch securing his coat and unclasps his jewelled belt, letting it fall with a clinking sound onto the marble floor.

"I think you like a little sun."

He crosses away from the light to stand before him, cups his cheeks and tilts his face up into a kiss. It burns. Arthur groans, grabbing a fistful of his husband's hair to not melt immediately like hot wax into the touch.

They kiss aplenty and would easily continue if Francis didn't abruptly collapse on the floor, dragging Arthur with him.

"Idiot," he curses, pushing the other back into the lit side where he belongs.

Francis pouts. "I only wanted to kiss my husband." He clenches his chest with such dramatic flair Arthur struggles to stay angry with him. 

"Nobody said you can't," he says, climbing onto their bed at the centre of the room, exactly in the middle between light and darkness, "But do things properly."

Francis smirks with intent at the invitation. After that, it isn't long before he joins Arthur, dragging him into another kiss, almost too tender and sweet for Arthur's liking. Going on like this, night will fall and they’ll still be in the midst of foreplay

He surges forward to crash his mouth against Francis', in a fierce kiss. Sucking in the other's yelp of surprise, he presses his advantage to thrust his tongue inside his mouth. Francis moans at the intrusion and Arthur only sucks harder.

The light cutting across his face is a small price to pay.

He pushes his husband down against the mattress, straddling him, a mischievous smile on his lips at feeling Francis beginning to tent against his crotch.

"Already?" he teases, rolling his hips down just to see the look on the other's face.

"Can you blame me?" Francis retorts, with a pleased sigh.

"Please. We both know you have the means to satisfy your needs in that kingdom of yours. Do not imagineI forget that."

Conjugal fidelity is something they long abandoned. Still, Arthur's voice drips with possessiveness as he bends down to bite a mark onto his lover's throat. Francis curses and squirms under him but Arthur only sucks methodically onto the wound, till it blossoms with a purple that won't readily fade

"To let your little lovers know whom you really belong to," he growls, low and dark, latching on and biting another mark onto Francis' collarbone, praising Solar fashion and the low cut of their dresses. He creates a constellation of love-bites that bloom all across the other's shoulders and upper chest, each little whine and moan a thrill.

"So nice," he murmurs, sitting back to admire his handiwork. Francis' lips are parted, swollen from their previous kissing, and his hair spreads in a halo all around his head.

He is still too thoroughly dressed. Arthur tugs at the hem of Francis' tunic, in a silent but demanding request.

"What about you?" Francis points out. "There is only one excessively dressed between the two of us, and it is not me."

He lifts one arm to brush his fingers down the back of Arthur's shirt, rigid with magic, all straight lines and sharp cuts. He indulges in crawling paths which follow Arthur's spine and the phases of the Moon embroidered there. He self-indulgently traces circles onto the new moon, before spreading both hands to grab Arthur's ass.

It's sufficiently surprising that Arthur arches his back and snaps his hips forward, the friction between his lover’s cock and his cunt, already wet in his breeches, growing more delicious by the minute. His own hardening dick twitches.

Propriety be damned, he will take his husband now and fully clothed if he has to. He will ride him too, afterward. The eclipse has nourished him aplenty.

The bottle of lube in a drawer of his nightstand, just out of reach, is the only thing preventing him from fulfilling his wish. 

With a groan, he resigns to slowing down and stepping back, stretching across the mattress to retrieve what he needs. Then, almost as a second thought, he sheds his tunic, his under-shirt, and finally his pants and boots. All while Francis, for whom it only took a few seconds to undress completely, laughs.

It is only appropriate then for Arthur to grab one ankle, and abruptly shove two lubed fingers up his ass. Head thrown back into the pillow, Francis whimpers.

"For so little?" Arthur chuckles down against his throat, hooking his fingers with a sharp movement to see his lover bend back into a perfect arc. 

"You know I don't - ah."His protest breaks into another pant as Arthur curls his fingers deeper.

Oh, he knows well his consort is rarely on the receiving end of this type of encounter, knows only he has the privilege, and fully intends to exploit it to the maximum. 

"I do," he grins mischievously while twisting his wrist to get a better angle. The King of the Sun keens, high and loud, and it sounds like the purest music. 

Were things different, Arthur would go on like this forever, delighting in watching his husband come apart under his touch, but their limited time dictates otherwise. 

"Just, look at you,” he says, withdrawing his hand to pour a new dose of lube onto his palm and his dick. "Now, I hope you are ready, love."

He pushes the insides of Francis' strong thighs to keep them apart and guides himself in. Pure fire surges from his lover’s loins and into him. His mouth opens on a scream of pure, crude pleasure. Crying too, Francis clenches around him.

Arthur fucks his consort with stern intensity, driving into him with the same force that raises tides down on mortal Earth. 

"Uh, uh,” he warns, when Francis leans in to touch himself. “Not yet. Keep it for me.”

Arthur draws energy from him for each push and pull, till he spills fast and hot inside. His skin twitches, buzzing with electricity.

“Arthur,” Francis pleads. He's still hard. Arthur’s lips curl into a new grin, his wet cunt clenching with anticipation at the sight.

He deems a warning unnecessary, as he lowers himself onto his lover's cock, his body pulsating with stamina and drunk on the eclipse’s power. Trapping Francis between his thighs, he rocks his hips, head lolling back, searching his pleasure. He wants it from his consort, wants everything

“Come, my dear,” he gasps, surging up and slamming back down, “give in to me. Come for me. Fill me and the full moon will be the most swollen that humans have ever seen.”

When Francis does, filling him with the sun seed, it’s absolute ecstasy. Arthur drains it to the last drop and keeps going.

Only a trace of light is still shining outside when he lies pliant next to his consort, sticky and sore, finally spent and sated.

He wishes they could stay like this forever. The incantation, however, is short lived, and soon they hear the low sound of somebody knocking at the door.

For a few seconds Arthur caresses the idea of ignoring it, keeping the door locked and staying there forever. 

Laws more ancient and powerful than them demand otherwise.

"Come in," he deigns to call, draping the bed sheets further over his intimity.

"Your majesties." Moon Steward Matthew bends into a deep bow befitting their status. "Night has fallen. Solars are preparing to take their leave." In informing them, he keeps his eyes low out of respect and modesty.

"Very well. I shall rejoin my court then." Francis accepts his duties with a long sigh. "Tell them to get ready. I will not take long, thank you."

"Of course. At your service." Matthew bows again before taking his leave. 

Back alone, Francis clasps Arthur's hands in his to press a long kiss onto them. 

"Alas. it seems we must part, my love," he laments.

"As we have always done."

But Arthur's voice is far from having the detached coldness he pretends to exude 

Nonetheless, he will not indulge in drama. 

There will be another time for longing and tears, alone in his rooms with Francis and the Solars back in their kingdom.Now, he must prepare to bid his guests a proper farewell.

"Dress. A king should not make his subjects wait," he commands, disentangling from the embrace to follow his own advice.

With one last sigh, Francis complies, putting back piece after piece. His amber skin is dotted with Arthur’s lovebites and hickeys

Reclaiming his crown, Arthur smirks with pride. It should be no mystery the Moon has the Sun wrapped around his little finger, today more than ever. 

It is not enough.

With a soft whisper he calls in his magic, feeling it tingle between his now closed palms. Silent, he takes his husband's hands, squeezes them, and feels the magic run from his fingertips into the others’.

When he’s done, Francis’ usual glow has a silver undertone. It will remain some time. 

“Come, night calls me to my duties, and you have a kingdom to which you must return . He lifts his hand for Francis to take , as protocol dictates. He doesn’t expect to be dragged into one last kiss. He complies nonetheless. 

  
  


The next full moon will be golden.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> “But, Gwen, * insert any objection based on how Sun and Moon actually behaves*” . I don’t care. It’s fantasy. “But, Gwen, shouldn’t it be more logical for the Eclipse to happen when they are having sex?” I thought about it, but I also liked the idea of the existence of forces higher than them, controlling celestial bodies  
> “Gwen! But so are they gods or not?” They are akin to gods but there are gods more gods than them.


End file.
